


Intervened

by Karios



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Intervention, Other: See Story Notes, Timeline What Timeline, Worldbuilding, Wrestlers Gimmicks are Real and Played Straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: Rosey's superhero training includes an intervention.





	Intervened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



> Silex,
> 
> You gave me free reign to be whacky, so I ran with it. I had originally envisioned this fic centering on Rosey, but then Stone Cold stunnered everything, literally and figuratively, and you don't try to stop the Rattlesnake.
> 
> I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for because I had a blast writing it.
> 
> To everyone else,
> 
> This fic mocks substance abuse and the intervention process. It's canon typical in its disregard for a serious subject, and certainly no worse than anything Vince has ever done, but I apologize in advance to anyone offended anyway.

Rosey was grateful for the Hurricane coming into his life. Sure, he’d been reluctant at first, but he had not at all enjoyed his time as Eric Bischoff’s minion—The Hurricane had informed him that the 3-Minute Warning was basically a minion organization—and he wanted no further part of such superevil. Thus, he had thrown himself into his training with gusto, determined to be the best Super Hero In Training or S.H.I.T. that he could be. As powerful as he felt, decked out in his crisp white cape, multicolored shorts, and purple mask, the course of training had not exactly run smooth; the old lady was harder to get across the street than he’d anticipated and he was not the right size for changing in phonebooths.

So he’d been excited when the Hurricane announced that instead of scouting out cats in trees, they had a special assignment delivering another member of the roster from evil. Rosey had thought, finally, an actual supervillain.

He rushed to follow the green-covered hero who flew toward the locker room area. Odd, he hadn't heard of any acts of disasteredly villiany nearby.

Bursting into the room, he discovered no cries for help, no obvious signs of distress.

"Come and sit," declared the Hurricane, stopping to pose.

Rosey settled on a couch next to Super Stacy while the Hurricane perched on the arm of the couch. A young man and woman with short-shorn hair commanded the attention of the room. They’d introduced themselves as C.M. Punk and Serena of something called the Straight Edge Society, and explained they were here to deliver Steve Austin from his alcoholism. Rosey laughed quietly to himself, no superpower in the world could separate the Rattlesnake from his cold ones. Super Stacy elbowed him in the middle and he fell silent just as the man, Punk, turned to glare at him.

“Something to share with the group,” Punk asked Rosey.

The superhero protégé shook his head. “No, citizen, carry on.”

From there, they were instructed to write letters of love and concern to Mr. Austin. Although he’d accepted a piece of paper and pen as the supplies were passed around, the S.H.I.T. had no real interest in taking part. Others, including Super Stacy, scribbled furiously. After some time, it was announced that a third associate of this SES had left to locate—or subdue, thought Rosey—the guest of honor, and the gathered were free to mingle.

He discovered that of the assembled, roughly a third had come for the promised pancakes and pie, reportedly The Rock's personal chef was in charge of the eclectic, not-so-light refreshments. Another quarter had arrived here expecting the locker room area to be a locker room and were trying to change or tape up as covertly as possible. Rosey faced away from them, spreading his cape wide to serve as a changing room partition. It felt vaguely heroic, and for that he was glad.

That left roughly one half of the assembled who were interested in the proceedings themselves. Given how many of the superstars and divas were in ring attire versus their street clothes many were interested in a possible melee that would result as well. He was prevented from inquiring further as the “guest” of honor was herded forwarded. Steve looked vaguely reminiscent of a trapped cow and snorted nearly as much. The superstars who encircled him were being especially careful not to touch the Rattlesnake and set off his provocation clause. Rosey scrambled back to his seat just in time to avoid disturbing their clumsy dance up the center aisle.

“We are gathered here today...” Serena began.

“Isn't that how you start a wedding?" interrupted a gravelly voice from the crowd. A glance backward confirmed the speaker to be HBK, as a woman, did in fact, swoon. 

Serena, not likewise affected, continued where she had left off: “To save a brother from his personal demons.”

“You ain't no sister of mine,” offered Austin.

Punk cut in. “Some of your friends would like to say a few words.”

Super Stacy stood and read from her paper. “Dear Steve Austin, I have seen your alcoholism affect your life negatively in the following ways: One, you hurt people. You have permanently damaged more than one superstar and even attacked divas. Two, you are a bad role model for young fans. Three, you are at odds with management, and could easily lose your job.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “might start unemployment today if this damned fool thing doesn't hurry the hell up.”

Stacy rushed a point four on a “willingness to destroy property” and concluded that Steve was “a valued member of the roster” and “to please accept this help today”.

“No thanks,” Steve said, “Who's up next?”

Goldust didn't wait to be recognized. Instead he made several arm movements than struck a pose before sliding his glasses on to read: “D-duh-dear Steve, B-b-bbb-beer is b-bbb-bb-bad so ya ya yooou should st-st-st-stopp!”

He took a breath to launch into another sentence, but Punk spoke faster. “That was good Goldust, let's let somebody else have a turn.”

Carlito stood up next. His message was succinct: “Drugs and alcohol are not cool.”

“What about you? You eat a lot of apples. Anyone ever suggest an apple-eating intervention?” asked Steve.

Murmurs broke out among the members of the SES. After a moment, Serena stepped out of the huddle and over to Carlito. “The apple, please,” she demanded, palm outstretched.

“Are you crazy? Apples aren't psychoactive.”

“Dependence on anything is unhealthy," intoned Serena, "even fruit can be a cage.”

Carlito looked down at the apple, then panned slowly back up to look at the diva and laughed. Determined, Serena reached for the fruit. Carlito pushed her backwards directly into Steve. He grinned like a cat with a mouse. Several nearby superstars fled.

Then, as any good ring announcer might have said ‘all hell broke loose’. Steve flipped off and then stunnered the entire Straight Edge Society intervention team in rapid succession. Meanwhile, other fights broke out in the crowd of assembled superstars. Someone, though Rosey never saw who, was klonked with The Rock's guitar. Several members of the roster had flung pancakes, and Rosey watched as Carlito followed up one such pancake breakfast with a side of apple chutney and spit, declaring “freedom is cool”. The pies, by some silent agreement, had been left to the divas to smush into each others faces, and several spectacular pieings took place before referees flooded the area in a sea of black and white stripes, attempting to break up fights and escort anyone they could out of the small space, starting with the prone bodies.

Rosey left to warn the arena's janitor about the mess. It was the most heroic duty he could think of.


End file.
